Bohemian Offspring I: How Did We Get Here?
by Madwoman in the TARDIS
Summary: I combined the old B.O. stories and You're Not Alone. The Bohemians experience changes they never envisioned during that fateful night the year before.
1. Christmas Bells

Copyright: All characters from RENT belong to Jonathan Larson and whoever owns the rights now

Copyright:All characters from RENT belong to Jonathan Larson and whoever owns the rights now.Without his play, I'd never have my stories or anything to obsess over.The Bohemian Offspring and Dulcinea belong to me.Oh, and I gotta give credit to Victor Hugo.One story line is similar to a story line in _Les Miserables_ (if you've seen or read _Les Mis_, you'll understand what I'm talking about). 

I reworked my stories and combined them together.There are a few obvious changes, as you soon will see.I finally had time to update – hope ya like.

December 24, 1996. 10:30 pm.

"The power is officially restored," Collins announced as he grabbed a seat on the couch."I say let's order in some Chinese food and watch Mark's film."

Mimi snuggled herself into Roger's chest."I'm game."

"Are you sure?" Roger asked worriedly."You probably should get some rest."_If I ever lose her again, someone better shoot me._

Mimi kissed her boyfriend's cheek."I'm feeling much better, honey."She turned to Mark, Joanne, and Maureen."What do you think?Chinese food and Mark's film?"

Joanne and Maureen agreed (for the first time in their entire relationship) that it was a very good idea.

Roger called up the Chinese restaurant, and within fifteen minutes, everyone was sitting around the projector.

"Marky, turn the projector on," Maureen ordered.

Mark glanced quizzically toward where the voice was.It was a female voice, and it sounded familiar.He heard the sound of the voice, but he couldn't connect the sounds into any logical sentences.He wished he at least could connect the voice with a name.He saw her brown eyes, her curly black hair, and her full lips.It meant nothing to him and he couldn't figure out why.

"Mark … earth to Mark!" Maureen said.

Mark blinked."Sorry, um, what did you say?"

"The projector."

He was barely able to make any sense of what the woman was saying, but he heard the word _projector._He turned it on.

The images on the screen were brighter than he had expected.The colors were almost too vibrant, and he recognized nothing he had filmed.The brightness was killing his eyes._What the hell is wrong with me?Is there some kind of drug hidden in the egg rolls?_His senses were playing tricks on him.He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at the bright fragments of nothingness.

Roger stopped stroking Mimi's hair to give his best friend a worried look.The filmmaker was ashen-faced, and his eyes were tightly shut."Mark?"He nudged his friend.When he didn't respond, he grabbed his shoulders and shook him."Mark!" he shouted.

_Damn it!I know that voice, too, _Mark thought grimly to himself.He felt something – _pins and needles? Voodoo sticks_? – poke him.He forced himself to open his eyes."Hey… just… I'm fine… watch," he mumbled._Is someone making noise next door?_"Will you shut the fuck up!" he screamed towards the wall."You folks are **way** too loud!"

"Who's too loud?" Joanne asked.

"The people next door!"

"Um, there **is no** 'next door'," Mimi said quietly."And everybody is in this room."

Maureen giggled. "You must be hallucinating, Mark."_Mark loves to joke around with us._Deep down, her ex-boyfriend's behavior was worrying her.The look in his eyes was one of genuine confusion and fear.She lowered her voice."Are you alright, Marky?"

_Why is everyone staring at me?_He wanted to scream or run or do anything but be in here, with these people staring at him."Um, you know. Maybe bed… a sleep… sounds good," he stammered.He stood up and staggered to his room."I'll see you in the morning."

Roger watched Mark leave the living room._He was fine earlier._He glanced around at the rest of his friends' faces.They were all staring in the direction of Mark's room.Even Mimi, who had almost – _no!Don't even think about that! _– even Mimi looked concerned.He stood up and walked towards his best friend's room."Mark?" he called.

"I'm sleeping," Mark answered."I'll feel better in the morning, alright, Roge?"

* * * 

December 24, 1996. 11:58 pm.

Collins pulled his overcoat tightly around his body, trying to keep out the bitter chill.The impromptu screening of Mark's film had been a success, even if the filmmaker himself had not stayed to view it.He wondered what Mark's behavior tonight had been about.Tonight was not going to be an easy night; they knew that long before Maureen and Joanne arrived with Mimi.It would have been his one-year-anniversary with Angel.Mark was having a difficult time handling his death._Hell,_ Collins reminded himself._We all are._Mark had used his film as an excuse, but they all knew the truth.Mark had buried himself in his work – didn't even eat or sleep for two months straight – in order to avoid showing his emotions.

As he passed the phone booth, he could almost picture Angel sitting there, pounding a gentle rhythm on the pickle tub drum._You okay, honey? … I'm afraid so …Be my lover – and I'll cover you._He blinked back the hot tear forming in the corner of his eye. God, how he wished he could hold his Angel again!

"Live in my house – I'll be your shelter," he found himself singing softly under his breath.He swallowed and let his voice rise a little."Just pay me back – with one thousand kisses." His deep, booming voice carried across Avenue B."Be my lover – and I'll cover you …"

He was interrupted by a quiet moan.He nearly jumped when he saw the small figure huddled against the side of the phone booth.He slowly approached it, and knelt down.It was a young girl, with latte colored skin, thick raven-black hair matted to her cheeks, and large amber eyes that gazed at the intruding philosopher in terror.Her burgundy dress, ripped and shredded, was soaked in blood.She had cuts all over her forehead and neck.Blood and snow mixed together and dripped down her hair.

_Jesus!_ Collins said to himself._Where's the monster that hurt this kid?!_He gently lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Hush, hush," he soothed."It's gonna be okay."

The girl recoiled, and attempted to scoot back against the phone booth.Unfortunately, she could barely move as it was.

"My name is Collins," he told her."I'm going to call the paramedics."He ducked into the booth, hoping the medical dispatchers wouldn't bug him with too many questions.He didn't want to leave the girl alone.As soon as the call was completed, Collins sat down next to the child.He removed his coat and pressed it against the girl – partly for warmth and partly to stop the loss of blood.

"Dulcinea," she said.Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Excuse me?" Collins asked.

"Dulcinea," she repeated, a little more forcefully."My name is Dulcinea."

Collins smiled. "That's a beautiful name," he assured her."She's a character in _Man of La Mancha_.Have you ever read it?"

Dulcinea nodded."My brother used to read it to me.It was his favorite book because my name was in it."

"It was my boyfriend's favorite book, too," he said softly. Before Angel had gotten sick, they would read to each other.Angel almost always requested that Collins read _Man of La Mancha._

He decided he should do anything to keep the girl awake and alert."I'm sure your brother is a very nice man," he said.

He saw a faint glimmer of a smile begin to form on Dulcinea's face."I was gonna visit him on Halloween," she said."It being his favorite holiday and all.I – I couldn't find him."She looked up at Collins, her amber eyes soaked in tears.

Her eyes … they reminded him of Angel.Angel's eyes, once shining and full of hope, had become dull and frightened.She even looked like his deceased boyfriend.He shook his head and pushed the futile thought aside.

"Can you tell me your brother's name?"

"Angel," she answered."Angel Dumott Schunard."

Collins mouth dropped open."That's – that's my boyfriend!" he exclaimed.He had almost said _was my boyfriend,_ but decided that this was not the time to tell the child her brother was dead.

"Do you love him?" Dulcinea pressed.

"Of course I love him," Collins said."Your brother is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

She asked him where Angel was.Luckily for Collins, the ambulance arrived and saved him from having to formulate a difficult lie.

* * *

December 25, 1996.8 am.

"Silent night, holy night," the alto and baritone voices sang. "All is calm, all is bright."

Mark wrapped his pillow against his ears."Go 'way!" he mumbled."I'm sleeping!"

"Don't you want to open your presents?" Roger asked.Christmas morning was the only time of the year he ever woke up before noon.When all he got in response was a groan, he yanked the covers off the film maker's body."Jesus, Mark!" he said."You slept in your clothes?"

Mark nodded and curled up into a ball."Go away," he repeated.

Roger turned to Joanne."I think we should take his arms and drag him into a nice cold shower."He grinned at her.

It was enough to get Mark to sit boltly upright in bed."Okay, okay, I'm up!"

Joanne rubbed at her eyes, trying to force herself to stay awake.She had spent most of the night in the hospital with Collins.No, Collins wasn't hurt or ill – he had found a girl that had been badly beaten.The ironic thing was, not only had she been left near the beloved phone booth, but Dulcinea was also Angel's sister.The sixteen-year-old had been beaten up by her pimp over a money issue.Joanne couldn't believe it._Why do good people have to go and get mixed up in bad business?_It pained her to see the child – and yes, that is how she thought of her – crying in pain and asking repeatedly for Angel.Collins hadn't left her side all night, and he wasn't going to do so until Dulcinea's condition improved.Joanne and Maureen had slept over at the loft.This was partly because by the time Joanne returned at 2 am, Maureen was already snoring on the pullout coach.Roger had decided that their lives would be in less danger if they let Maureen stay where she was (the drama queen was a classic bitch when she was half-asleep).

"I'll have to return to my apartment to get your gifts," Joanne informed the boys.She navigated her way through boxes of leftover Chinese food and film reels._This place is a pigsty!_Not that it bothered her anymore.Now if this was her apartment - that would be different.As she left the loft, she knelt down and kissed her girlfriend on the lips. 

"Wakey, wakey, Honeybear," she cooed."Santa Claus is here." 

Maureen opened a lazy green eye and smiled."Morning, Pookie," she said, and returned the kiss."Merry Christmas."

* * *

December 27, 1996.3:45 pm.

"Room 204, please."

The receptionist looked up at the curly-haired Latina woman standing before her."Second floor, last door to your left hand side."

Mimi thanked her and ran to the elevator.She couldn't believe she was finally meeting Angel's sister.He had always spoken with great pride about her.Despite the three-year-age-difference, the Schunard siblings were inseparable.Angel used to talk about his plans to sneak into his family's apartment and see his Dulce while his parents were gone.She wished Angel was here now, and she was almost sure Collins did, too.She wasn't sure if Dulcinea knew about her brother yet.That would be Collins job.She had enrolled for the spring term at NYU this morning.She was on probation due to the drugs screwing her up last semester, but that didn't faze her.Even though she was only twenty-years-old, she was a senior, because she had skipped the third grade.She even put in a request to change her major.She had been a psychology major, but now she wanted to add women's studies.Her NA sponsor told her to put a dollar in a jar every time she felt the urge to shoot up.She was to use the money (which would have been wasted on smack) for something worthwhile.Mimi wanted to help young girls avoid what she herself had gone through.She had nowhere to turn to after her father's death – until she found heroin and AIDS. Despite what some people thought, she had actually started working at the Cat Scratch Club to pay her tuition.It was only recently that she had started using the money to pay for drugs._Angel chica, you should be here to help me._

Mimi pushed all thoughts aside when she arrived at her designation. She knocked quietly on the door of Room 204, and then pushed it open with her foot.

"Hey Collins," she greeted the worn-out philosopher.The man looked like he hadn't slept in days – not a big exaggeration.He was sprawled out on one of the hospital's hard wooden chairs.

Collins stood up and gave her a hug.He gestured to the bed, where Dulcinea lay, her head swathed in bandages.Mimi pulled up a chair.

"Hey there, Dulcinea," she said."I'm Mimi.I'm – I'm a friend of Collins and Angel."

Dulcinea limply shook her hand."Nice to meet you," the teen said.She narrowed her eyes, as if she had recognized Mimi from somewhere.

"I dance at the Cat Scratch Club," Mimi offered."Handcuffs?"

Dulcinea shook her head. "No, I think my brother talked about you.We met once for lunch last year.I skipped school and met him at the Life Café."She turned her face toward Collins."Where is Angel, anyways?" She bore her amber eyes into Collins' velvety brown ones."I want to know – **now**!What are you trying to hide?"

Mimi and Collins looked at each other.They had to tell the child sometime.

Collins knelt down and grasped Dulcinea's hand."Honey, Angel passed away in October," he said softly."He had AIDS."

"I knew he had AIDS. Oh – oh my god!" Mimi bent down to give her a hug, but she pushed the dancer away.Her voice quivered."He-he talked about you and your friends nonstop. Especially you, Collins.He raved about you."She blinked back tears."Mami and Papi had kicked him out of the house cause he was gay.You – you were more family to him than we were." She stopped to take a breath and force a flow of tears back into her eyes.

"Shhh .. shh … it's okay to cry," Mimi whispered. Sheand Collins gathered the young prostitute into their arms and let her soak their shirts with her tears.Mimi ran her fingers down Dulcinea's cheek."Let it out.We're here for you."

After a few minutes, Dulcinea looked up at Collins, her amber eyes reminding him of a stray puppy."When did he die?" she asked.

"His memorial service was on Halloween morning," he answered.

Dulcinea's eyes grew wider and she gave a short gasp.

"We know," Mimi told her. "Halloween was Angel's favorite holiday."

Dulcinea shook her head."It's not that," she told her new friends.She took a breath."That was the morning my daughter was born."She realized they were puzzled and continued."I-I named her Angel Musetta Schunard.You know, it being Angel's favorite holiday and all."

They didn't have to ask where Musetta came from.Angel had been obsessed with _La Boheme_ ever since he had learned that a character had his last name.

Mimi felt a lump rising in her throat.She suddenly had an idea as to why this girl had been on the street soliciting herself.Too many girls she knew had been kicked out of their homes because they were pregnant.If the Schunard's strict Dominican father could cast his only son out of the family for being gay, then he certainly would have no qualms about kicking out his only daughter because she was pregnant.She couldn't believe that two of the sweetest people she'd ever met had such cruel parents.She was interrupted by Collins' bass voice.

"Where's Angel now?" he was asking the girl.

"She lives with my pimp's brother Tenny," she replied."He-he runs a motel up in Poughkeepsie.I pay him $40 a month."

Just then, a nurse peered her head in the door."Visiting hours are over," she announced.

Mimi gave Dulcinea a hug."I'll see you tomorrow, chica," she promised the girl. Dulcinea smiled.As she walked out of the room, she made a mental note to talk to Joanne about Dulcinea's child.

* * *

December 30, 1996.7 pm.

Roger sat on the table, struggling to pick out a chord on his guitar.It amazed him to see how quickly Mimi had recovered from her brush with death.She woke him up during the night with her withdrawal pains, but he knew from experience that those fits would grow less frequent with time.At the moment, she was quitting her job at the Cat Scratch Club.Her NA sponsor had recommended she distance herself from potential relapse situations.She didn't need the job to pay tuition, anyways – Benny was taking care of it. At first, Roger had been suspicious of Benny's motives – how could anyone blame him after all the shit the guy pulled?But he realized that Benny was genuinely sorry – he was only human and humans tend to screw up sometimes.Right now, he was worried about Mark.The filmmaker had been in his room all day, just staring at the ceiling.Several times, he had complained to Roger that it was too loud.Except for the TV turned low, there was no other noise in the loft.He didn't know how to explain the reason behind Mark's strange behavior this week._Probably shaken up cause of Mimi,_ he told himself._Hell – we're all shaken up cause of what happened to Mimi._He hoped that this was a phase.Mark would be back to himself in no time.

A knock on the door brought him back to his senses._Got a light? … I know you – you're – you're shivering …_

Instead of finding Mimi, he saw Collins.His philosopher friend sprawled himself onto the couch.

"So, I hear Mimi's quitting her job."

Roger nodded and joined Collins on the couch."Yeah. I'm gonna miss those outfits though."He grinned at Collins."But we still got the handcuffs!"

Collins cuffed him on the ear."Oh, I bet you would, wouldn't you?There's a lot that can be done with handcuffs, you know."

Roger laughed."Oh yeah!"He immediately grew serious."Tell me, how's Dulcinea?" By this time, all of Angel's friends had seen his sister.It was hard not to be endeared to her.She had all of the qualities that made them love her brother.The only one who hadn't become friends with her was Mark.He had taken one look at his dead friend's sister (who looked very much like Angel himself) and bolted from the room.

"They're discharging her tonight," Collins answered."I'm gonna take her to my apartment."

Since the summer, Collins had been living in a tenement on the Lower East Side.It was a tiny space compared to the loft.A living room held a couch, a desk, a computer, and a TV.A shower stall accompanied the kitchen.The bedroom was so tiny, there was barely enough room for a bed and a dresser.

"How's Mark?" Collins asked, glancing in the direction of Mark's room.

Roger pinched his lips together."Not good.I'm starting to worry about him."

"Give him space," Collins said. "He'll come around eventually."

The two friends chatted for a few more minutes.Collins looked at his watch and stood up."I'd better get to the hospital before they release Dulcinea."

"Hey, I'm meeting Mimi over at the Life around 10," Roger informed him. "Wanna drop by?"

Collins shook his head."I don't want to leave Dulcinea by herself."

* * *

December 30, 1996.8:15 pm.

When Collins arrived at the familiar Room 204, he was surprised to see himself greeted by a forlorn doctor.

"I'm Dulcinea Schunard's friend," he explained."She's supposed to be released tonight."

The doctor motioned him over to a chair in the hallway."Yes, Mr. Collins, I know who you are," the doctor said.He extended his hand. "My name is Dr. Lewis.I think you should sit down, sir."

Collins gulped back the fear in his chest.Whenever a doctor told you to _sit down_, it meant they had bad news."Is-is Dulcinea alright?" Collins struggled to get the words out._Please let her be okay.C'mon, girl._

Dr. Lewis shook his head."She had an infection – a blood clot in her lung – as a result of the beating she took.She passed away around 4 o'clock this afternoon."

Collins blinked to keep the linoleum floor from swimming."Dead?" he whispered.The news was a shock to him."She's – she's dead?"

Dr. Lewis placed a hand on the Black man's shoulder."I'm sorry."

"She was supposed to go home tonight, damn it!"

Dr. Lewis cleared his throat."She left me a note," he said. "Wanted me to give it to you."He handed Collins a folded piece of paper.Collins could almost make out the hospital logo and curvy handwriting.

"Thanks, doc," he said.He slipped the note into his pocket and allowed himself to grieve._Damn it, Angel! It's not fair! It's not fuckin' fair!_He took a few deep breaths and forced his legs to carry him out of this god-forsaken hospital.As soon as he felt the cold New York air biting his cheek, he reached into his pocket and looked at the note Dulcinea had left him.

_Dear Collins,_ he read._Thank you for everything.I never knew what love meant until I met you, Mimi, Roger, Joanne, and Maureen.I wish I knew how to thank you.I know that I'm gonna die soon (I'm not dumb ya know).I can see why my brother loved you so much.You are a beautiful person, inside and out.__Love always, Dulcinea Ani Schunard._

Collins felt a tear trickle down his face and stain the paper._So were you, Dulce, so were you._His eye caught a p.s. at the bottom._ P.S. Take care of Angel for me._

_ _

* * *

December 30, 1996. 10:15 pm.

Mimi tapped her foot impatiently against the floor of the Life Café.Roger was supposed to meet her fifteen minutes ago.Her boyfriend's tardiness didn't shock her.Roger was notorious for being late.She drank a cup of decaf coffee while she waited.Quitting her job proved more difficult than she originally expected.Her manager looked like he was going to grovel at her feet, the way he kept begging her to stay and telling her that her handcuff act drew more customers than any other.She simply told him to teach one of the other dancers the act, and walked out.

She looked up when she saw the figure of Collins enter the Café."Oh my god! Collins!" she shouted, waving him over to the table."Roger told me that you weren't coming."She stopped herself when she saw the defeated look on his face."What's wrong?" she asked.

"It's over," Collins whispered."Dulcinea's dead."

The two friends stood there for almost five minutes, crying into each other.

"Do you want something to drink?" Mimi asked between sobs and _I'm sorry_'s.

Collins shook his head and broke the embrace."No time," he answered."There's something I gotta do."He gazed at Mimi to see if she understood."There's something I need to take care of – in Poughkeepsie."


	2. Valentine's Day

February 12, 1997

Copyright:Your beloved Bohemians belong to the late great Jonathan Larson.The Bohemian Offspring belong to _moi._Hope you like it … enjoy the happiness, because it won't last for long.I still gotta explore Mark's mental instability.; Þ

February 12, 1997. 8 pm

Roger entered the apartment to find Mimi sitting on the couch, arms crossed."Hey," he said, kissing her on the lips.

Instead of returning the kiss, she turned away."I want you to get out," she said coolly.

Roger was puzzled.He knew she wasn't using anymore, not since Christmas Eve.The Narcotics Anonymous and outpatient counseling had helped so much.So why was she being so cold?"What's wrong?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her.

Mimi tore his arm off her.Her eyes turned cold."Get out now!"She stood up and pointed to the door."Your guitar's on the table."

Roger stood up also.He tried to control his temper, but Mimi's bizarre behavior was making that impossible."What the hell did I do?"

Mimi ignored his question.She frantically searched the apartment for any of Roger's belongings.He followed her as she tossed his things onto the living room floor.He grabbed her wrist and forced her to look him in the eye.

"What did I do?" he repeated.

Mimi was silent for a minute.Finally, she blurted it out:"I'm pregnant." Roger was stunned."You're – what?!"

"Yes, that's right," Mimi said."I'm pregnant.Knocked up.With child.Bread in the oven.Whatever you want to call it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"He tried to steer Mimi towards the couch.

"Why didn't I tell you?!" Mimi exploded."Maybe it's because I know how you'd handle something like this.You're not very good at it.How can I expect you to handle me being pregnant if you can't even handle anything bad happening to your friends?I know you, Roger.Every time something bad happens you run away."Roger opened his mouth to protest, but Mimi cut him off."So I'm making it easier for you.You don't have to worry about a thing because I'm letting you go."She sunk onto the couch.Roger stood, staring at her.Mimi's eyes softened."I'm keeping this baby, Roger.I know – I know the risks, but I just can't have an abortion."She turned his eyes to him."Yes, you're the father, but you don't have to take any responsibility for it.I can do it myself."

Roger sat down next to his girlfriend and put a protective arm around her."No," he whispered."You don't have to do it yourself.I'm here."He let Mimi bury her head into his chest."Why?Why would you think I couldn't handle it?"He didn't want to wait for an answer._How many lives have I fucked up when I was on drugs?I can't ruin another person's life, especially not Mimi's._

Mimi allowed herself to be comforted by Roger.She tried to force back the tears, but finally she just let them flow, staining her cheek and Roger's sweatshirt.

* * *

February 14, 1997.1:09 pm.

"So, Pookie, how do I look?"

Joanne glanced up from the deposition she had been working on to see her performance artist girlfriend decked out in a red spandex suit, red cardboard heart with a white _I love you_ lighting up, black heels, red heart earrings, and red heart frames."Well, for a valentine, you look – delicious."

Maureen smiled and leaned in for a kiss."Pookie, you **know** I'm delish," she purred."Should we practice my performance?"

Maureen was giving a performance tonight.She claimed it was for Valentine's Day, but all of her friends knew that she just wanted an excuse to steal the limelight._This diva needs her stage …_She was paying homage to all the great love stories of the past with a collection of monologues from _Romeo and Juliet, Casa Blanca, Breakfast at Tiffany's, _etc.The performance would be no different than any she had done, except for the fact that Mimi and Roger had an announcement to make andMark wouldn't be there.It was nothing against her; she already knew that.The filmmaker hadn't left his room in over a month, and there was a good chance he wasn't eating, either.She wished he could be there, if only to tease her about her Valentine's Day getup.

Joanne shrugged."I think you did fine, Baby," she assured her."If you want to practice …"

Maureen stomped her foot."I did **not** do fine!" she screamed."I keep messing up."She pouted in Joanne's direction."Please, Pookie?"

Joanne rolled her eyes and stood up."Alright.For the twentieth time today …"

Maureen was growing impatient."You should know what I'm like before a performance," she admonished."I'm …"

"… a bitch," Joanne finished.Maureen playfully cuffed her ear."A sexy bitch if I might add."She grew serious. "Calm down, Hon. You have absolutely nothing to worry about." 

Maureen knew her girlfriend wasn't kidding.Okay, so she was saying it to shut her up – but she meant every word.She had never known true love until she met Joanne.Sure, they fought, but only because they were so similar yet so different.Even when they bickered, they knew that it was a matter of days before they found themselves back in each other's arms.They hadn't fought since Halloween, which was over three months ago.Roger had started a betting pool; the gang was betting how long it took until they fought again.

"Honeybear, have you ever thought about having children?"

Joanne's question jolted her back to the present."What?!" 

She repeated the question."Have you ever wanted to have kids?"

Maureen sat down on the love seat, snuggling her face into Joanne's chest."When I was younger, I guess." She turned Joanne's face toward her own."Why?"

"It was something I'd planned on doing, even before I knew my sexuality," Joanne explained."I'm almost thirty-three years old.I had wanted to wait until I was financially stable and was involved in a steady, committed relationship."

Maureen's thoughts turned to Collins' daughter, Angel.The three-month-old had quickly won over their hearts, and not only because her full head of black hair and her large amber eyes resembled her namesake.

"It's little Angel, isn't it?" Maureen prodded.Joanne nodded her head."She's a cutie."

"I think we should start a family."

Maureen wrapped her arms around her girlfriend.They stayed there, unmoving, while Maureen processed what her girlfriend was telling her.For the first time in their entire relationship, Maureen and Joanne were in complete agreement.

* * *

February 14, 1997.11:34 pm.

Collins placed the infant carrier on the chair next to him and strapped it in place.He gingerly wrapped the yellow blanket around the tiny creature's body, then turned to the others."Well?Are we ready to start a riot?"

Roger grinned."I say we start a mass Alphabet City orgy."

Mimi chastised her boyfriend for his lewd ideas."Roger, behave!"She smiled at the sleeping Angel."Are you sure she should be here?" she asked."It's much too noisy to sleep."

"She's a heavy sleeper," Collins explained.He turned to Maureen, who had just entered the Life Café with Joanne, Benny, and Alison."Good show tonight, Mo."

Maureen pouted."Just 'good'?"

"No, it was great," Alison assured her.

After Angel's death, Benny had gradually ingratiated himself back into their lives.They realized that Alison wasn't as terrible as they had made her out to be.It wasn't her fault she was born into a wealthy family.She wasn't snooty – she was just shy.Per a conversation with Maureen, they had learned that Alison had been against the Cyber Arts Studio from the get-go; she simply didn't have the courage to say anything at first.It was hard to believe that a few months ago, _Muffy_ was an enemy.Now, she was one of the _Family._In fact, their son, Benjii, was Angel's playmate.Benjamin Coffin IV was exactly five days younger than Angel Musetta Collins.

A high-pitched wail came from the carrier.Collins lifted his daughter out and gently rocked her back and forth in his arms.He remembered the first time he held her.His heart had melted.He had arrived in Poughkeepsie early morning, and it had taken him nearly the entire day to locate Tenny's motel.It wasn't that difficult to retrieve the infant.All it took was $1000 a la A-N-G-E-L and a bottle of champagne to assure Tenny and his patrons a _Happy New Year._He had cradled her in his arms, and watched her cry.

"Shh…shhh..," he cooed.He found himself singing to her."Live in my house – I'll be your shelter.Just pay me back – with one thousand kisses.Be my lover – and I'll cover you."Amazingly enough, Angel calmed down when he sang to her._I'll Cover You _was her favorite lullaby – at the very least, it was the only song that soothed her when she got upset.He sang it to her now, in the Life Café.

Roger stood up and tapped on his glass."Ahem!" he shouted, clearing his throat."I have an announcement to make."

Everyone leaned in closer.Roger looked serious, so they knew he wasn't about to take Mark's place as designated riot starter.When he had everyone's attention, he continued.

"Mimi and I are having a baby."

Maureen almost dropped her tea and Collins almost dropped Angel.

"You-you're w-what?" Maureen sputtered."Having a-a baby?"

Mimi nodded."I'm pregnant."

"I think we figured that already," Benny reminded her.His comment resulted in a bonk on the head from his wife.

"Congratulations, Mimi," Alison said."If there's anything you need help with, let me know."

Collins gave her a disapproving look.That girl tried way too hard to be nice.He almost wished she would act like herself – they weren't going to bite her head off.

The next ten minutes were spent oohing and aahing over Angel and congratulating Mimi and Roger.Collins couldn't believe it.Three babies in one year.This was definitely not something the Bohemians had envisioned last Christmas.He was to get a bigger surprise, however, when Joanne spoke.

"Maureen and I are planning to start a family of our own."

* * *

March 10, 1997. 12:03 pm.

Mimi was working on her calculus homework when she heard the knock on the door.She opened the door to reveal a young woman, not much older than her, holding the hand of a small boy.The boy had brown eyes and curly blond hair.One hand grasped a blue Pokemon wheelie-bag.He was squirming, trying to get out of the woman's grasp.

"May I help you?" Mimi asked the woman.

"Yes.Is Roger Davis in?"

"No, he's rehearsing with his band," Mimi answered.She opened the door wider and gestured towards inside."Won't you come in?"

The woman and the boy entered the apartment.Mimi invited the woman to sit on the couch."Why do you need to see Roger?" Mimi asked suspiciously.

"Is it alright with you if my boy plays in the kitchen?I don't want him to hear this."

Mimi covered the table with newspaper and set the boy up with paper and crayons.The boy turned to his mother to protest.

"No, you stay here and color.Mommy will talk to you in a minute, Roger dear."

When they were back on the couch, Mimi turned to the woman."His name is Roger?"

"Yes, and Roger Davis is his father."The woman extended her hand."I'm Delores."

"Mimi.Roger never told me…"

"Why would he?"Delores' eyes hardened."Do you know what that jerk did when I told him I was pregnant?He threw me an amplifier [or any small piece of equipment if an amplifier is too heavy].Told me to sell it and pay for an abortion."Her bitter laugh made Mimi nervous."You wanna know something?The damn piece of shit was broken!That bastard!I should have known he didn't love me.He only came crawling to me when he and that bitch April had a fight.I should have known."

Mimi interrupted Delores' angry rant."Roger's changed since then."

Delores looked skeptically at Mimi."A bastard like that never changes."

"Well, for starters, he's off drugs."She didn't think Roger's HIV status was any business of this woman's._Well, it is her business – who knows if she got infected?_ Mimi reminded herself._It's not your place to tell her._"And – and we are having a baby."

"Wait a few months," Delores warned."It'll finally hit him and he will leave you."

Mimi shook her head."You don't understand."

Delores jumped up."I understand perfectly!"She leaned down until her face was level with Mimi's."Don't say I didn't warn you," she half-sang.

Mimi eased herself off the couch."If you hate Roger so much, why did you come to see him?" Mimi asked.

"I got a job offer in L.A. and I'm not taking Roger with me."

"You-you're abandoning your son?"Mimi shook her head in disbelief.

"Oh?You think you're boyfriend's any better?"

_Great!What's Roger going to say when he hears this?_"If you wait around, Roger will be home in a few hours."

"No, I'd best be going," Delores said."If Roger has any questions, he can call the Marriott in Westwood.I should be checked in by 4 pm California time."She went into the kitchen and hugged her son.The boy grabbed onto his mother's shirt."Mommy, don't go!" the boy shouted.Delores tore away."I'll call you tonight, ok Sweetie?" She and Mimi both knew that was a lie."You stay here with Mimi and be a good boy.You're gonna see your daddy soon."With that, Delores opened the door to the apartment, never to be seen again.

Mimi pulled a chair up to the table."What are you drawing?" she asked.

"My dog."Roger grabbed a brown crayon and shaded in his picture.

"That's a good dog.Do you like dogs, Roger?"

The little boy nodded."I had a dog once.His name was Rusty."He looked down to the floor.

"Was it a nice dog?" Mimi asked gently.

Roger nodded."My mommy gave him away.But I'm gonna grow up and get a dog of my own and nobody will take him away." 

Mimi asked the boy's age.He told her that he turned six in April.

* * *

March 10, 1997. 2 pm.

"Mimi, I'm home!" Roger called as he entered the apartment.He placed his guitar by the coffee table."Mimi!"

Mimi entered the room and planted a kiss on his mouth."Shhh!" she whispered."You'll wake him up."

"What?Did you have the baby already?"

Mimi pointed to the small figure curled up on the couch with a brown and white rag dog.She grabbed Roger's wrist and led him into the kitchen.He absent-mindedly picked up a piece of construction paper with an amateur drawing of a dog.In the bottom left corner was a child's scrawl._Roger._The letters were all uppercase, except for the _e._And the _R's _were backwards.

"His – his name – is – Roger?" Roger sputtered.

"Roger, you're his father," Mimi informed him.

Roger sat down."Oh my god!"He ran his fingers through his hair."What was her name?Donna?Delores?"

"Delores," Mimi told him, reaching for his hand."She's heading towards L.A. now.I called Joanne.She said that before you do anything, get a paternity test.You might not be the father."

"You saw him when he was awake?"

Mimi locked her fingers with his."He has your eyes," she confessed.She heard a stir from the other room."I think he just woke up.Go on, talk to him," she urged.

Roger cautiously stepped into the living room."Hey, Roger, buddy."


	3. Happy Spring

I saw _Rent_ for the third time on Friday night.  Between watching the show, listening to the CD, putting the _Rent _logo on my computer wallpaper (thus immersing myself in my favorite play), I was inspired to write another chapter for my story.  Add the fact that the semester just started (no heavy work yet), and I had the perfect excuse to sit down at my computer and write.

Copyright:  Like I said, if you don't recognize a character from when you saw the show, then they're probably mine.  Otherwise, they belong to the late great Jonathan Larson.__

March 17, 1997.  5:15 pm.

            Mimi set the bowl on the counter and looked down at the little boy tugging on her skirt.  "Hey, Roger," she greeted him.  "What can I do you for?"

            "Can I have a cookie?" 

            "We're gonna have dinner real soon, honey."  She dried another bowl and stacked it above the first.

            "But I'm hungry!" Roger, Jr. complained.

            "If you have a cookie now, you won't be able to eat your dinner," Mimi told the boy.  _The way he's scrunching up his face, I could swear I'm trying to reason with his father._              

            Realizing he wasn't getting anywhere with Mimi, the five-year-old child turned his attention towards the man playing guitar on the table.  "Can I have a cookie, Daddy?" 

            Roger shook his head.  "Not before dinner, Roger, buddy," he said, using his pet name for his son.

            Roger, Jr. stomped his foot on the floor.  "Pleeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaassssssse!" he begged.  "Mommy always lets me have a cookie," he added, hoping that would do the trick.

            "Mommy's not here right now," Roger replied.  "You're following my rules, and one of them is 'no cookies before dinner.'"

            The child planted himself on the kitchen floor, his knees drawn up to his chest.  

            "Sulking isn't going to get you anywhere," Roger reminded him.

            Mimi placed the pile of bowls in the cabinet and approached Roger, Jr.  She knelt down until she and the boy were at eye level.  "Do you like to play pretend?" she asked.  He nodded.  "What's your favorite kind of cookie?"

            "Chocolate chocolate chip!" he replied.

            Mimi continued.  "I want you to close your eyes and pretend you're eating that chocolate chocolate chip cookie," she instructed.  He closed his eyes.  "Can you taste it?"  Another nod.  "Doesn't it taste yummy?"

            He opened his eyes.  "Now can I have a **real** cookie?" he asked.  

            "Tell you what," Mimi said.  "If you eat your dinner, maybe we'll see about having Carvel ice cream for dessert."

            After Roger, Jr. retreated to his bedroom (or what once was a tiny, hole-in-the-wall guest room), Roger turned to his girlfriend.  "Do we even have Carvel ice cream?" he inquired, setting his guitar next to him on the table.

            "Collins brought some Flying Saucers over this morning," Mimi answered, joining Roger at the table.  "What?" she asked, noticing Roger's cocky grin.

            "Nothing … nothing," he replied.  "You're pretty good with the kid."

            Mimi kissed him on the cheek.  "That's what comes from being the oldest of eight siblings."

            Roger glanced over at the slightly ajar door, where a curly, towheaded boy was playing with a plastic dinosaur.  "I don't know how you do it," he said.  "I don't know **shit** when it comes to kids."   _And here I am, twenty-three-years-old, with a five-year-old in the other room, and another one on the way._  The results for his paternity test were due tomorrow, but there was no denying it.  Roger, Jr. was 100% Roger Davis's son.  He had Roger's cocky grin, curly blond hair, and his temper.  Even Mimi's mother referred to the boy as _Little Roger_.  If it weren't for Josefina Marquez, Roger would be at a total loss.

            Mimi tapped the musician on the shoulder, bringing him out of his reverie.  "I'm taking some of my brothers and sisters to the Central Park Zoo tomorrow afternoon," she said.  "You and Roge are more than welcome to join us."

            "Which ones?"  He'd met several of them when he helped Mimi, but he could never keep track of who was who.

            "Marcello, Lucia, Eva, Bernardo, and Juana."  Marcello was thirteen, Lucia was twelve, Eva was nine, and Bernardo was eight.  Juana, who was only an infant when their father was murdered at the family sewing and tailor shop, was five.  Juana and Roger, Jr. were the same age and often played together.  

            "What about your other brothers?" Roger asked, placing his arm around Mimi.

            "Rodolfo's working and Camilo has a paper to write."  Rodolfo was nineteen, a year younger than Mimi, and Camilo was two years younger than that.  In fact, when Roger had first seen Mimi and Rodolfo together, he had mistakenly assumed she was cheating on him.  Now, whenever Mimi's brothers visited, they would stop by the loft to talk to Roger.

            "I'd better get dinner started," Roger decided.  He slipped off the table and walked to the refrigerator.  "Does macaroni sound good?"

            Mimi wrinkled her nose.  "Last time I ate that stuff, I got nauseous," she reminded him.  "Use less cheese for Roger.  He hates it when it's too cheesy."

* * *

March 25, 1997.  3:39 pm.

 "I want to sue my neighbors."

Joanne looked up from the paperwork she had been consumed with over the past hour.  "You want to – what, Mark?" she asked the bespectacled, unshaven man hovering over her desk.

"Sue my neighbors," he repeated.  "For violation of the noise ordinance."

Joanne shook her head and gave him a funny look  "Mark, you don't have any neighbors.  Your loft is the only apartment on the third floor."

_She doesn't want to face them, does she? …I'm the only one who's brave enough._  "You haven't been in the loft in awhile, have you?" Mark told the lawyer.  "They argue constantly.  I've had furniture thrown against the wall.  The paint's starting to peel in my room from the weight of the things they throw during their fights."

She shuffled through some paperwork.  "Mark, I repeat – you can't sue your neighbors."

He leaned toward her, gripping her eyes with his own.  "I've lost sleep because of them," he explained.  "I want to sue them, and if you don't do it, I'll find someone else."  _She can't talk me out of this.  My mind's made up to sue them, and I'm going to sue them._

Joanne rubbed her eyes, as she mulled over some half-decent responses in her head.  _He's adamant about these nonexistent neighbors,_ she reminded herself.  _I've dealt with people in his situation before.  Just go along with him.  _Finally, she spoke.  "Why don't I talk to Roger and Mimi and see if your neighbors' – fights – have been bothering them also," she suggested.  _And to see if they've noticed your erratic behavior._

* * *

April 8, 1997.  11:53 am.

            "A dog … a spaceship … a water gun … a tarantula … a fire truck … Play Station …"  Mimi recited the list she had inscribed for her soon-to-be stepson.  

            "Anything on that thing we can actually _get_?" Roger wondered.  He took the piece of paper from his girlfriend's hands.  "We could probably get him a fire truck at Goodwill's."

            Mimi pushed an unruly curl off of her cheek.  "He wants a _real _fire truck," she explained.  "One with bells and ladders  … the works."  She smiled at her boyfriend.  "But I told him, 'If we put a fire truck inside the building, Daddy would have to sleep on the roof.'  He'll settle for a toy truck."

            Roger shook his head.  "He'd better!"  

            It had been barely a month since Roger Davis, Jr. had been left at the loft on 11th Street and Avenue B.  In two weeks, he was celebrating his sixth birthday.  Since his birthday fell on Earth Day, Maureen had wanted to do an environmental theme.  The drama queen's suggestion was nixed immediately. Instead, Roger and Mimi were taking Roger, Jr. and his friends to an arcade.  Joanne, Maureen, and Benny were tagging along as chaperones.

            Roger straddled the chair, his eyes falling upon Mimi's swelled belly.  "When do you see your doctor?"  he asked.

            "Next Tuesday," she answered.  She blinked, trying to force herself to stay awake.  Morning sickness had woken her up at 5 am, and she hadn't been able to fall back asleep since.

            "Maybe you should take a nap," Roger suggested.

            Mimi shook her head.  "I have a psychology class at 2:15," she said.  "If I lie down now, I'll sleep for hours.  That's not …" She was cut off by the ringing phone.  "Who's calling, please? … Oh, hi, Kim … No, not much, you?"  She pressed her palm on the receiver and turned to Roger.  "Kim's home with the flu," she whispered.  "Can you take Derek home?"

            "No can do," he said.  "I've got band practice.  I scheduled practice around Kim's schedule!" he shouted in response to Mimi's glare.

            "I'll take the boys home," Mimi replied.  "If you want, Derek can spend the night here."  She ignored Roger's silent protests.  Kim Watson had been Mimi's closest friend during their days at the Cat Scratch Club.  Her son Derek was in Roger, Jr.'s kindergarten class.  Mimi replaced the phone onto the wall and turned towards the glaring musician.

            "Did you have to volunteer our apartment like that?" Roger asked.

            She crossed her arms over her chest.  "If it was the other way around, Kim would take Roger in a heartbeat."

            "Well, you could have asked me first!" Roger pressed.  "I can't cancel practice … I've already rescheduled twice."  He gestured to Mimi's protruding stomach.  "And what if you start to feel sick?"  He was genuinely worried about his girlfriend.  Even though she was carrying a high-risk infant, and the fact that she was losing weight and vomiting every other hour, Mimi was adamant about keeping her child.  Roger had never realized how perseverant the ex-dancer could be until he witnessed her struggle to quit heroin and return back to college.  Some of their friends had tried to convince her that the pregnancy could be dangerous (and would put a damper in her education), but she had ignored them.  Not even Collins, who was the most empathetic of the group, could even begin to fathom how long it took to make that tough decision.

            "I'll call Maureen."  She sank back down in her chair, and picked up Roger, Jr.'s birthday list.  "You don't have to worry about me, you know."

            Roger huffed.  "I'll end practice early," he told her through gritted teeth.

            Mimi's warm brown eyes grew large.  "You don't have to end practice!"

            "I'm sure as hell not gonna leave you alone with those runts!" he retorted.

            Mimi opened her mouth to shoot back a reply.  Instead, she reached across the table and gently squeezed her boyfriend's hand.  "Thanks, baby," she said quietly.

* * *

May 10, 1997.  5:27 pm.

Mark flung the bag of groceries onto the kitchen floor.  "Lucy, I'm home!" he shouted in his best Ricky Ricardo voice.  

Roger and Roger, Jr. looked up from the couch.  "Aww, man!" Roger groaned.  "We were starting to enjoy the peace and quiet."

 Mark ignored his roommate's banter; his attention was focused on the glass of lemonade sitting next to his beloved camera.   Mark rushed over to the table and grabbed his camera.  _The kid's trying to play a trick on me.  He poured lemonade onto my camera.  _He felt the camera – it was sticky.  He planted himself in front of the TV and waved the camera in front of their faces.

"Did you spill lemonade on my camera?" he interrogated Roger, Jr.   

The boy shook his head.  "I don't drink lemonade," he said, leaning toward the left in order to see Scooby-Doo and Shaggy.

Mark knelt down in front of him.  "Well, **someone** has a sick sense of humor," he told the boy.  "Do you know what happens to people who mess around with my stuff?" he snarled.  The kid buried himself into Roger's chest.  "They get hurt – bad."

"Leave him alone, Mark," Roger ordered.  "It's my lemonade, and **no one** spilled anything on your camera."

"Oh yeah?!" he retorted, and shoved the camera into his face.  "Feel it, why don't you!  It's sticky."

Roger placed his a hand on the camera, then handed it back to the filmmaker.  "It's fine," he said.  "I didn't notice any sticky spots."

"You don't work with this camera day in and day out like I do," Mark explained.  "I should know when it feels sticky or not."  He ignored Roger's protests.  _How the hell would he know, anyways?  Nobody takes me seriously anymore.  Everyone's so wrapped up in their own lives.  Why should anyone care about me?_  He picked up the glass of lemonade and pitched it to the wall next to the couch.  "Anyone who tries to mess with my camera – that'll be your head!" he screamed before storming up to his room.


End file.
